Contest Fantasy: “Act Your Age”

At the Seattle Leather Daddy & Daddy’s Boy Contest over Thanksgiving weekend, Jean Hardy (the new Northwest Leatherboy) and I did a stage fantasy as entertainment for the contest.  (We could use more genuine leather entertainment at leather contests, rather than drag acts or burlesque strippers!)

Rather than doing anything as messy as last year’s Klondike Bar fantasy or as elaborate as the Rocky Horror fantasy from International, we went for something easy and funny and themed for a Daddy/Boy contest:

I entered the stage and sat down to read a newspaper.  The boy came in and started watching cartoons (Warner Bros., Ren & Stimpy’s “Log” song) and eating sugary cereal, throwing bits of it at me.  “Would you please act your age?” I demanded.  Drawing himself up and getting all serious (Lord of the Rings music), the boy let loose: “But Daddy!”, followed by a tirade of queer theory proclamations about age and gender being societal constructs forced on us by the dominant patriarchy… and put me solidly to sleep.  He then (to Road Runner music) handcuffed me to the stool, tied me up, draped toilet paper all over me, and dumped the rest of the cereal on me.  Then he danced away (Ren & Stimpy’s “Happy Happy Joy Joy” song and the Warner Bros. ending music), leaving me to wake up, ask for a handcuff key, and dragged the stool off-stage, still cuffed to it.

I was formerly Seattle Leather Daddy 2004.  Read the Leatherati coverage of the contest here.

Photo courtesy of Leland Carina.

International LeatherSIR Contest

Thursday

I arrived at Amtrak in Oakland at 8:40, on time.  See this post for details on the train trip down and back.  Dragged bags to BART, then a cab from Civic Center to the hotel.  This was the Holiday Inn Golden Gateway, the same hotel that I was at last October for Sundance Stompede and in March for IMsL.

Hooker (Rik Newton-Treadway) was the first person I saw whom I knew, saw him before I even got out of the cab.  I always have an internal poll on that for any of these large events I go to.  I know lots of people here, with a dozen years and more of travelling to these weekend events all over the country, so it’s an open bet who the first one I know will be.

Check-in to the hotel was a mess.  GLPW had arranged for a check to prepay things for both rooms, but the hotel equipment wouldn’t process it.  The bank said there was no problem on their end (so I expect the hotel’s hardware or software was at fault; they probably do far fewer checks today than in years past).  The bank get me the cash, I paid the hotel, and all was well.  Kept myself calm throughout.  Boy Dan and Pope Bacon (and Jeremy on the phone) were stellar throughout.

Our region ended up as number 11 out of 15.  This put our schedule right after lunch for the interviews, which might be good — refreshed judges, not yet food sleepy — and after the intermission for the fantasy on Saturday.  Ruin was still uncomfortable about having time to change between fantasy and finals, despite there being about 30 minutes, so we definitely needed to use our alternate for her role in the fantasy.

The Meet and Greet at Mr. S Leather was fun, but it was difficult to track down each of the judges (at least one did not even get there for the M&G, I think, and one I only met as we were leaving).  It very much felt like “moth and flame”, finding a judge and circling in the near distance until we could come close enough for our own “face time”.  (It was not just Northwest Leatherboy Dan and myself with this, all the title teams were doing it.)  Contest Emcee Graylin Thornton later commented on this on Facebook, how in the desire to get face time with each of the judges, the contestants were largely ignoring everyone else at the event.

A couple of the judges whom I didn’t know before knew me from the blog and other sources, which I hope turned out to be good.  Rob Welcher says that we have met a couple times before (he is a former Seattle titleholder, from years before I moved to town), but I sure don’t recall it (and he’s hot, you’d think I would remember).  I assume one time we met would have been when Dave Lewis died.  Dan Hughes is another whom I should have met all through the late 90s, give that we both lived in the Bay Area (him in San Jose and me in San Jose/Sunnyvale/San Mateo) and attended some of the same events (Santa Clara County Leather contests, Leatherfest X in San Diego).  How did we not know one another?

Dan and I wore leather-themed T’s, some of my CFM Designs shirts (Leatherboy and Shattered Leather Flag).  One of the judges asked about them specifically, which validated wearing them vs. other options we had considered (dress leather with sash, harness, etc.).  The other contestants were in everything from leather T’s to bare chested to sash, the full range.

Intro of contestants and sort-of speeches (not formal stepdowns) from Alan, Nitro, and Luna followed at the hotel, plus more mingling.  I got a little more face time with a couple of the judges (or ass time in one case, showing off the lightning bolts).  As the evening wrapped up, I found myself as the last contestant still hanging around.  This was not because I was desperately looking for more face time with the judges, but because I knew many of the people running the event and was chatting with Randall and Mark and Olivier.

Dan and I headed to the room to ramp down and get some sleep rather than going out.  Cliff finally got in around 1 am, after a loooong wait for the shuttle service to actually bring him to the hotel from Oakland airport.

Friday

Fantasy practice was at 9:45.  We started setting up props in the hall and got in the ballroom early and used up our time getting everything situated and adjusted, with one music run through.  All of which was fine and expected, since we have several props.  We would need to practice with our third person on Saturday, since she couldn’t be there on Friday morning.

Interviews were immediately after lunch; things started probably 10 minutes late.  (I know things must have drifted late during the morning, because there were no bathroom breaks scheduled for the judges, just interview after interview.  There’s a recipe for failure!)  With only 8 minutes for each interview, that’s one question per judge, roughly.  Less if you meander.  Can I remember the questions they asked?

• Patrick Mulcahey: Do you identify as a switch?  (My bio listed colors flagged on both sides.  I don’t use that term myself, and was able to summarize some of what is in this earlier post.)
• Rob Welcher: Who has made a mark on the Seattle leather scene?  (I name checked Jeff Henness, Dave Lewis, Eric Bonesteel, and included myself due to the Leather Calendar and Chez Poing fisting parties.)
• Hugh Russell: Do you plan to collar a boy, and if not, how can you mentor in the leather scene?  (Apparently suggested by his boy Kent.  I summarized this blog post.)
• Mike Zuhl: What is a strength and a weakness of your title boy?  (I got this same question in my practice contest, and used the same answer.  He is very giving of his time and skills, but maybe too giving at times, should put himself first more.)
• Dan Hughes: How would you advise a boy in the community who wants to play with a man who wants to bareback with him?  (Advise him to research what that means, get him to have an honest conversation with the other guy, and encourage him to be real sure he is aware of the long term implications of such a decision.  But I also cannot take a strict “No, never” line because the world is more complex than that.  This is a hard question to answer at all in a very short time.)
• Seth Munton: Will I be comfortable travelling to all the places needed during the title year?  (Yes, I already travel to many leather events a year.  I look forward to being able to travel to places I have not gone to before.)
• Chris Meister: He wanted to know about the “porn videos” I have done, as listed on the bio.  (They are mostly “home videos”, on Xtube and my iPad.  The application does not specify professional porn, so who doesn’t have naughty pics online somewhere?)  I don’t recall if there was a notable question beyond that.
• Jeffrey Payne: (Writing this six weeks later, I cannot now remember what Jeffrey asked me.  It will probably come to me at some point and I will update the blog post then.)

Some of the questions were right out of my bio or seemed informed by things I have blogged about, or maybe I was just able to successfully predict the topics with my blog posts (as hoped for).

(In discussions later on with Hugh, who is from Seattle, he told me he almost asked me about my statement that “Leather is life, not religion” from this post, in light of how much religion and ritual entered the leather scene in the 1990s, but he decided that it was not a question that could be answered well in the short window we had.)

With 37 contestants — although nothing but a stage intro for the bootblacks on Friday — the four hours of the Friday contest was a huge amount of hurry up and wait.  Wrangling that many contestants is like herding cats, so we all had to stay in the dressing room rather than getting to see each others’ speeches and jock portions, unfortunately.  They need close-circuit TV or something!

My speech went very well, I thought.  I did not feel rushed, and my practice times had been around the 1:40 mark, so little chance of being dinged points for going over (recorded time was 1:38, according to the score sheets).  Crowd reaction occurred in the expected places.  The text is posted here; the thrust was showing personal growth over the past year in accepting the identity of a Sir, based on an interview question from Sir Alan at the regional contest.  I hit all the notes that judges and the audience usually want you to hit (that’s an advantage of competing many times before, you learn these things), and Alan gave me a big grinning thumbs up as I came off the stage, which meant a lot.

(If a judge didn’t like the speech content, I imagine it would be because they want people who grow from already identifying as a Sir, rather than growing to that place and thus implying some of the title year being “wasted” in getting to where you should have started it from.)

The jock strap portion went fine.  I was actually wearing a rubber jock — a prototype from Nasty Pig that they never went forward with — but it is doubtful the judges could tell, and with rubber being prominent in my profile, even if they could tell, it should have been fine.  I also wore red and black Nasty Pig armbands and my lace-up lineman boots with red socks.  I did my best to strut the stage well, cock first, and show off the lightning bolt tats.  Graylin even commented on them when I left the stage.

(If a judge didn’t like my look here, I can’t imagine it would be because I didn’t present the “comfortable in his skin” air they typically want.  Trying to lead with my crotch might have given me an odd walk; I should have practiced that more.  Also, the lineman boots are matte black while there is a shine to the jock which might have been better matched by the Chippewa boots I left at home.)

Earlier in the day, had met two guys  from Atlanta and went with them and Cliff to play in their room, which eventually also included one of the other contestants and another buddy Cliff and I know, a past IML contestant.  I had a great time tying one of the guys up and then fisting both him and one of the others — a chariot race at one point — but I eventually had to call it quits for myself about 1:15, before I fell asleep, hand in ass.

Saturday

Saturday started ugh-early with a “My Title Year” session from the outgoing titleholders, a chance to brain dump from them on all the things expected and unexpected we would face, including things like regional LSb events overlapping your own produced ones, grabbing the wrong luggage, and deaths in the family.

After lunch, the silent auction closed, leaving me with two bottles of vodka, a harness for Cliff, and a new uniform shirt and pair of pants.  The shirt fits great, but I think the pants are too tight.  I may need to repackage them for a future fundraiser.  (Or not.  I have lost another few pounds since ILSb due to changing my lunch eating habits and while tight, the pants are wearable, and I finally have ones I can wear inside my Chippewas.)

Demos occurred in the early afternoon.  We had been told we needed only one, but at the event we suddenly had to have one for each of us.  Eep!  The leather pride flag duct tape hood we had planned became the Boy demo (demonstrating submission and patience).  (Credit where it is due: Karen Yew taught the hood at Northwest Sash Bash, but I’ve since made it my own and done it for a couple demos.  We gave the removed hood to Bill Hoeppner, so he could remember the one time all weekend that Dan had been quiet.  )  I got Ruin and Cliff to do leather West Coast Swing dancing with me for the other; her in a rope harness and him in a leather one.  (Ruin popped out of the early non-judged part of the bootblacking to help with this.)  The dance demo confused many people — judge Seth Munton asked if I danced in the dungeon — but it was intended to demo envelope-pushing play in public, stuff we actually do.  Ostensibly non-judged events, these did give the chance to show some of the things I like to do.

(I am told that during the new titleholder orientation on Sunday, Randall Kinnear called out the dance demo as something he was pleased to see, demonstrating the breadth of stuff the contestants had for the demos.)

We also finally connected with our fantasy’s third person (filling in the role written for Ruin), Ms. San Francisco Leather Miss Bethie Bee, who had been a judge with me at Alameda County Leather.  We showed her the video and talked things through, then blocked it out and ran through it once on a table in the hallway.

Dan and I headed to the nearby Whole Foods Market for sandwiches for dinner.  On the way back, some driver had misjudged the traffic — or just been greedy/stupid and ended up stranded in the middle of the intersection of Van Ness and California, blocking both lanes of California from moving at all.  So what did drivers do?  Honked and honked and honked.  What purpose does that serve?  If there is someone paying attention to their cell phone when the light changes and needs a nudge, the first honk or two will do the job.  If traffic still isn’t moving, obviously it is because traffic can’t move, and honking won’t help that.  Okay, I understand the stress relief that can come from a horn honk.  Great: I’ll grant the first five or six normal-length honks as valid.  After that, though, your honk is just adding to the noise and making things worse, and leaning on your horn to prolong the honk only exacerbates that further.

The contest started at 5 pm, so we were backstage at 4 pm, but other than intros, Dan and I didn’t go on until 7:10 or so, until after the intermission.  Again, we couldn’t see Ruin’s speech, nor could she see the fantasy.

One thing I noticed while in the dressing room on Saturday night (and on Friday) was that some of the contestants (Sir, Boy, and Bootblack — yes, I capitalize “Boy” as a title, unless an individual wants me to lowercase it for him personally; “Boy” is as valid a title prefix as any and it is a disservice to those who don’t want to be seen as subs to forcibly take away the capital letter without asking) were very sociable and some were very private or quiet.  Some of the contestants I got to know fairly well — mostly the ones numerically grouped near our number, but not all of those — and some I never had but the briefest interactions with all weekend.  Some simply sat by themselves (or with their title team) off to the side, never making any social overtures of their own.

I noticed this as well on Thursday and Friday nights, after the events, and Saturday during the day: there were a few of the contestants (maybe a third) who were actively social outside the requirements of the contest, but a number of them vanished completely.  Is this just how they are as people, or did they do it on advice (or control) from their producers, keeping them sequestered to control any “mistakes” that might be made?  Hard to say.

I found this somewhat peculiar, and it marked one place that, to me, is missed in the weekend judging.  In theory, you want a titleholder who is gregarious and comfortable in social settings, engaging with everyone present whether they are a big name titleholder or not.  (See Graylin’s earlier comments.)  The bootblack contestants had an explicit Personal Interactions (or something like that) piece to their contest, specifically circled around the bootblacking activity, where the judges saw and rated how they actually engaged with individuals.  But because the Sir and Boy contestants were sequestered during the contest (and its breaks; no mingling during intermission) and often disappeared outside the contest pieces, and there was no explicit judging piece of this, there would seem to be missed opportunity to deal with some very important skill sets.

(I’m also told that one Sir/Boy pair signed off the contestants Facebook group days after the event.  That certainly smells of intentional social withdrawal, as though they were on that group through the contest only because it was expected, just in case anyone would inspect to see if they were there.)

The fantasy went well enough.  We did a Rocky Horror riff (or if you prefer, a Rocky Horror Riff Raff, heh) — bringing a corpse to life to use for sex — intended to hit Edgeplay theme notes of necrophilia, electrical play, and gender play (since we were using Ruin/Bethie Bee for the creature, completely hidden for much of the piece and fully revealed only near the end).  We also had a cool special effects rig, with a black-light lit sheet and rope light coils with an intensity slider which we could jiggle during the electricity part (which was done with a violet wand).  We had padded the timing of things in a couple places to take up time we had extra of, but apparently padded too much, so when we got to the central electricity bit, we were actually behind the music by a few seconds, but caught up easily enough.  The audience loved it (as I knew they would), and we got the antici-(say it!)-pated call backs, and several people commented that having Dan play with the violet wand on himself was superb.  A couple audience members later said that our fantasy was their favorite, and a very welcome bit of fun in the evening.  (That is, not a YAMTAR fantasy — Yet Another Military Takedown And Rape — where you’ve seen what they are doing time and again in other fantasies over the years, where you may well be marking time until this duo stops hitting and fake-fucking each other so we can get to the next pair’s hitting and fake fucking.  See more on that here.)

(Olivier Pratt posted videos of the fantasies, so we got to see it eventually.  Our fantasy and more commnetary is here.)

Did the judges like the fantasy?  Places they could have disliked things include not grasping that we were hitting Edgeplay notes (no guns, knives, or rape, after all), or seeing us as co-opting the Movies theme assigned to another region (or even the Sci Fi one), or not enough simulated play between Sir and Boy.  I won’t know until we see the scores.  The fantasy was roughly 30% of the points, so it is often a make-or-break point.  I will certainly be bummed if what we did cost me a first or second placement, but what is done is done; we had fun and we felt good about the piece.

When the results came in, Ruin won International Community Bootblack.  (That’s two of the three big bootblack titles in the Northwest now!)

Neither Dan nor I won or placed in our competitions.  I was not surprised that Sir Ben from the Southeast was one of the finalists (1st runner-up), given both his looks and his event attendance during the year.  (I was very intentionally courting the title with this blog and some of my travels during my year leading up to the contest.  Ben and joe boy’s travels appear to my eye to be much of the same.)  Sir Jack was one of the contestants with whom I had almost no interaction during the weekend, only briefly during the Demos, so his win came completely out of my blind spot.  I look forward to seeing the scores; I know I did well and won’t be surprised if I was 2nd runner-up.

Later, I went out to Kok Bar.  Former Northwest Community Bootblack Dylan was blacking there and he noted that (given two international bootblack titleholders in the Northwest now) Northwest Boot Weekend will definitely be occurring again, in 2013.

One of the contest staff from Southwest region and I had had been nosing around each other all weekend and finally got to connect at Kok.  (My finger connected with his ass, my knee connected with his groin, his back connected to the wall, etc.  Special nod to one of Big Bad Jim’s workshops at Northern Exposure.)  When we got back to the hotel, I took him to my hotel bathroom (continuing my thread from MAL of that being the best place to play, at least after 2 am! ) and fisted him face-down on the bathroom floor while sitting on his back (among other positions).  Great play buddy, and I look forward to a rematch.  Maybe I can get to Phoenix in March for their contest?

Sunday

I will post a separate entry on the Dore Alley fair later, just so I can get this already lengthy post out.

Monday

Monday, I got up, ate breakfast with Dan, and packed.  We ended up at the New Village Cafe for the third time during the weekend (I try to eat at a different restaurant every time on a trip, Starbucks excepted), because the Grubstake Diner turned out to be closed on Mondays.  Went to the Castro to cruise for the afternoon (fruitlessly), then came back to the hotel.  Got to talk to Mid-Atlantic Bootblack Raquel for a bit before heading to the train station in Oakland.  Train was over 90 minutes late leaving, and we were about an hour late getting back to Seattle when all was done.

Next Year

Next year, they are really trying to transform ILSb.  The event has been sold to Jeffrey Payne, and the organization itself is now a 501(c)3 non-profit, which may have the ability to open up a lot more pockets, especially to better supply the titleholder travel fund.

It will be moving back to Dallas, to Labor Day Weekend, which initially seems counter-intuitive vs. San Francisco on Dore Alley Weekend.  Attendance was probably higher in San Francisco because of Dore Alley weekend, making it easier for out-of-town titleholders and such to justify attending.  But to be sure, Dore Alley won’t notice a drop in attendance from LeatherSIR moving, maybe 100 people all told.

They are planning a vendor market (more than just Leather Masters from this year), and the top floor will be a play space, something notably missing this year from a “players” title weekend.  (IMsL had play spaces at the same hotel, so it was surprising that a “players” title like ILSb did not.)  Maybe I should volunteer to manage the fisting space for them next year.  Including trying out all the equipment, of course.  (I am actually serious about this: my experience with the Chez Poing parties and Equinox in Seattle certainly makes me qualified to do it, and to make sure that piece of the play spaces succeeds.)

I suspect CLAW’s success has had something to do with this revised plan.  The key thing here is that the contest itself is only ever a limited draw.  (Look at IML and Mid-Atlantic Leather to see how many come for the event but not the contest.)  The contest needs to be the event’s center, but there is a lot of money to be made from the other components of the event.  In San Francisco, Dore Alley filled that role, sending the money to other places than ILSb; in Dallas, they can keep that money within the event.  I think this can be good for the event and the titles in the long run.

I am definitely planning to be there next year.

Northern Exposure 3.0 (Anchorage) • June 14–18

GUSH!

I guess I need to say more that that, huh?  Okay: I had a great time at Northern Exposure, exceeding my expectations!

Northwest region for International LeatherSIR has a huge territory to cover — Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Montana, and Alaska — and much of it very sparsely populated.  There isn’t much that you could call a gay leather scene out of the Seattle-to-Portland corridor (no leather bars in Missoula, Montana, sorry to say), so it is difficult to really cover the region as a leather titleholder.  There are a couple small fisting weekends in Eastern Washington, though.  And a pansexual leather conference in Alaska.

I knew vaguely of Northern Exposure in Anchorage because of arrangements made for last year’s Northwest Community Bootblack Dylan to travel up to the event.  So when the call for presenters went out, I sent in five proposals: Play Party Etiquette, How to Throw a Play Party, Online Cruising, Engaging a Club and Its Board, and Fisting.  (Yes, all over the map.  Not knowing just what they were looking for — more sex or more organizational — I wanted to provide a variety of options for them to choose from.

It took a long, long time to get things settled.  I had communication that they wanted me to come, but it wasn’t until after all the other presenters’ bios and classes were posted online that we got my stuff settled.  (As the head organizer, Sarha’s time was stolen for the first part of the year getting ready to compete at IMsL.)  I don’t know if this was my lack of experience in being a traveling presenter (this was only my second such; I previously did a rubber workshop for KCLU (now defunct) in Kansas City) or added uncertainly on how to handle a gay presenter at a pan event, but it was frustrating.  Eventually all got dealt with, of course, and I had enough miles on Alaska Airlines to cover the ticket (which would be pretty expensive otherwise, even from Seattle).

Thursday

I flew in on Thursday, getting in about noon.  About the time I got to the Seattle airport, it occurred to me that this was one of the few trips I have taken in recent years to somewhere new, somewhere I haven’t been as an adult.  The last trip like that would have been to Madison in October 2010, and before that were overseas trips to New Zealand, Amsterdam/Copenhagen/Berlin, and Ireland.  Alaska is one of only a handful of states I had never visited before (with Hawai’i, Alabama, West Virginia, Delaware, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine), and there aren’t many metro areas in North America I haven’t been to at least once.

I met one of the other presenters at the airport — Dr. Clockwork, who sells violet wands.  While someone from Northern Exposure was supposed to meet us, no one was there.  I had rented a car, so I went off to get it and left my contact info with Doc in case he felt stranded.  I headed to downtown, but stopped off at Alaska Leather (a motorcycle leathers shop) and ate at Angeline’s Philippine Cuisine.

In town, I scoped out where the gay bars are — Mad Myrna’s, The Raven, and Kodiak — and then headed for the downtown tourist area.  That part of town is loaded with tourist shops, each of them having 80% the same stuff as all the others, of course.  I bought the requisite Alaska t-shirt (with a moose on it), a pair of bed shorts (red with mooses on them), and a necklace with a bear paw (not a moose!) carved on some Alaska mineral that looks like hematite.

I then headed out to the west end of town, to Earthquake Park.  Alaska suffered a major earthquake in 1964 which destroyed a couple major ports and severely damaged the Alaskan economy — and launched a tsumani which was seen in San Francisco and actually caused major damage in Crescent City, Oregon.  Earthquake Park overlooks part of the landscape which collapsed, dropping a bluff a couple hundred feet.

At The Raven, there was a “potlatch” — a small potluck in this case — and the welcome meet and greet for the weekend, with the introduction of most of the presenters.  The amount of food wasn’t quite enough for me, so I went next door to a hamburger place.  Later on, I was definitely fading, so I got directions to where the presenters were being housed, some cabins on Beech Lake, about 30 minutes north of Anchorage, and I head out there ahead of people.

When I got there and got into the first cabin, I was dismayed: bare except for a couple cots and an unlit wood stove.  Fortunately, I found the main cabin, which had futons, heat, a bathroom, and a kitchen.  I found a couple blankets and snuggled under them, working on blog posts, and was just about to doze off when others arrived, including some of the Northern Exposure crew with bedding.  Suddenly things were much more tolerable!  about half of use stayed in the main cabin, and others got fires started and stayed in the smaller ones.

Friday

On Friday, I took a couple of the workshops, including Dr.  Clockwork’s on “Violet Wands: Basics & Beyond” and Big Bad Jim’s on “How to Beat the Crap Out of Someone”.  The latter of these gave me a few ideas to use during flogging and bondage scenes regarding hitting someone with body parts other than hands and feet.

I also did my first workshop, on “Play Parties: How to Go and How to Throw”.  I first did a version of this a year and a half ago for Tribal Instinct in Seattle, toning it up a little for this.  The first half of it is influenced by the book to teenagers called Prom and Party Etiquette, by Cindy Post Senning (daughter of Emily Post), twisting its content to kink party ends: what should you do and not do at a play party, should you bring a date, should you bring a (hostess) gift, can you see the guest list, etc.  The second half is about putting together your own play party — why you should do one, what you can manage, what you need to provide, who to invite, how to manage an invite list, how to deal with problems.

I didn’t stick around for the play party that night, going out to Mad Myrna’s instead.  I got to the bar to order and heard “Jim Drew, what are you doing here?!”  The bartender was former Seattle Empress Miss MeMe (albeit in boy mode for work).  Never assume you can go anywhere incognito.  I also met up with a guy I had been chatting with on Scruff.  After a couple drinks at Mad Myrna’s, we went to the Raven and made out a while there.  Unfortunately, neither of us had somewhere we could go to fuck (etc.), so we had to leave it at that.

Saturday

On Saturday, I took three workshops.  One was Snook’s “Bill of Rights for Bottoms”, which was a work-in-progress workshop, as much group discussion about the concepts as anything.  Second was Rule of Three’s “Depersonalization and Dehumanization”, which discussed things such as bondage and masking to focus on only part of a bottom (like tits or cock), and also about using a bottom as an object, such as a table or an ashtray.  Third was slave Elizabeth (and Master Todd)’s “Slave’s Guide to Screwing Up with Grace”, which was mostly about how their relationship works, including managing/balancing the BDSM side of things with professional life and children.  Slave Elizabeth also gave a great phrase to take with me, regarding when people treat their relationship protocol as the one everyone should follow: “Your protocol is your protocol.  Your protocol is your gift.”  (My addition: “Please keep it.  Regifting is tacky.”)

I did my second presentation (we were each scheduled for three, one per day), “Cruising Online: Getting Some Ass without Being One”.  This was heavily centered around gay male online cruising, but with looks into things like FetLife and OK Cupid, including the OK Cupid Enemies Tumblr blog, which showed that het cruising can be just as full as asses as gay cruising is (as witnessed by Douchebags of Grindr).  The workshop went through details of what goes into a good online profile, including photos, title, text, and keeping things fresh.  There was also some good discussion about concerns for het women (stalking, etc.) and people in smaller communities (where the description alone in a profile can be enough to identify someone, even without pictures).  But probably the best part of the session was walking through bad examples I had found online — no pics, no profile text, iPhones implanted in faces, and so on.  (You could probably do an entire hour giggle session just with bad profiles!)

I slept in the car instead of taking the last workshop session, very tired.  It was warm and humid, though, so I only dozed.

Rather than head out to the gay bars early tonight, I stayed for the evening play party and engaged in four flogging scenes.  Two of them were with women — Marie and Monique — both of whom were newer to things (I think it was Marie’s first flogging and Monique’s second one).  I also played with one of the few other gay men at the event, former Mr. Alaska Leather (and former Seattle resident, so we already knew each other a bit) Kurt Hillyer.  WIth Kurt, both because he is experienced with flogging and because we didn’t have either gender or orientation issues to get in the middle of things, I was able to work him over harder, and we did the scene in the round, without bracing, just him standing upright in the middle of the space as I worked him up one side and down the next.  The fourth scene was the standout for me, though, as Monique had set me up with a straight (presumably) bear of a guy named Will who wanted to really be laid into.  As with Kurt, I was really able to open up on Will, not just with the flogger but with a paddle and with my hands, including fist beating on his back and even spitting on his heated skin.

I eventually had to stop playing — had to cut short the fourth scene, with Monique — because of my wrist (which has been bothering me since March), before it started hurting too bad.  Monique gave me a great gray bandana with “ALASKA” and bear and moose printed on it, and I traded her my fairly standard gray bandana in return.

I went out to Mad Myrna’s again for a beer and met up with a Facebook friend David, who knows people I do in the Seattle Imperial Court.

Sunday

On Sunday, everyone at the cabins got a late start, waking up just a little bit before the car to take those of us who didn’t have our own in to Anchorage.  Since my workshop wasn’t until the afternoon, I hung out rather than rushing.

I made the second workshop, Snook’s on “Piercing for Bondage & Control”.  She used hooks in her girl’s chest and thighs and strung them under the table.  She used some needles in the arm with a ribbon lacing, and then used needles through the fingertips and toe tips… and then made the girl remove the needle piercings while tied down.  While it was a fascinating workshop, it also confirmed for me that needles aren’t something I want to pursue, either as top or bottom; the blood and pain issues don’t bother me, but there’s just nothing in it that flips a switch for me and makes me want to try it.  Which is fine: Not My Kink.

My third workshop was after lunch, titled “60 Minutes of Buttsex”.  Actually, the workshops were 90 minutes, so I edited that to “60 Minutes of Buttsex + 30 Minutes of Fisting”.  This was a formalization of the “100 Miles of Buttsex” car workshop I did with Ruin, Ryan, and Jean in March.  While my other two workshops had small attendance, maybe a half-dozen people each, I probably had 20 people here, which kind of surprised me.  I shouldn’t have been: anal sex has some taboos attached (making it that much more attractive) and is something a lot of pan folks have tried to a limited degree (and maybe not with great success), but generally not nearly as much as a gay guy has — we specialize in it, after all.  There were bits of great discussion during the workshop, especially from Cat, a lesbian from the Bay Area, who was able to help fill in some of the holes (intentional pun) I had regarding female bits.

After that, I sat in on Lady Pact’s “Erotic Wax Play” session, but I was so tired, I kept dozing off.  Eventually FoxFinder (Sarha’s husband/dom) nudged me and had me go lie down in the presenters’ room, where I dozed and got a little sleep.

When we arrived that morning, FoxFinder had told myself and Master Todd that we wouldn’t be staying at the cabins that evening, that we would need to go back out and retrieve our stuff, that other housing would be done that evening.  Due to my workshop right after lunch, we opted to go out between the workshops and dinner, when there was a long enough break.  When we (and slave Elizabeth) got out there, Otter (who was kind of our cabin Den Mom) was dealing with the people who were renting the cabins next.  Apparently not only were we not staying that night, we were supposed to be fully out before they got there at 5:00.  Oops.  We hastily cleared things out, trying to keep further friction at a minimum.

(The incoming people run a weekly camp for “special needs” kids.  Obviously, one thing that really helps “special needs” kids is consistency, the ability to do the same things the same way every time.  Perhaps less obviously, one thing that really helps people who work with “special needs” kids is also consistency.  The woman was pissy less because our stuff was still there than because it was disrupting her consistency and thus her ability to provide such to the kids.  I sympathize, but she came across as though some of the “special needs” had rubbed off onto her.)

Returning into Anchorage, we had a lengthy discussion about relationship protocols, how things differ between gay and straight kink worlds, leather contests, and in particular about hats and covers.  Finding that we were on the same page about the subject, they asked me to do a Covering Ceremony for Master Todd, which I was surprised yet honored to oblige for.  (I won’t go into details — it was just the three of us and the Alaska countryside, short, and less formal than ceremonies you will find written out [such as in John Weal’s controversial book], but the value in such is what those involved take away from it.)

Dinner was a multi-course affair back at the event site, everything home made, including bread, cream of mushroom soup, salad, salmon, bear meatloaf, and dessert.  In between the courses, the Last Frontier Drag Kings performed.  (And Sarha fluttered around, changing outfits every few minutes.)  They also brought each of the presenters on stage for a special thanks, and for me, that included an on-stage pinning by Kurt with a The Last Frontier Men’s Club (the local leather/bear club) pin — down on his knees, fishing in my fly to find the right place for the pin — and a few seconds that I spent licking all over FoxFinder’s fist (that’s what happens when you ask me to explain International Mr. Saliva, what can I say?).

Most of the presenters who had been at the cabin went out to the FoxDen near Wasilla for the night.  I decided I wanted to stay in town and hit the bars again, maybe get myself some man-on-man action.  (And ensure having a room, bed, and bathroom to myself.)  Online hotel sites had godawful expensive rates, but remembering the name of a motel near the bars, I got a decent enough rate to stay in the city.  The bars were pretty dead, but I did connect with a guy online for some suitable play.

Monday

On Monday, I packed out of the motel and headed to Gwennie’s Old Alaska Restaurant for the Survivor’s Brunch.  The info I had was off by an hour, though, so the rest of the crew wasn’t there.  I was about to leave to kill time at Starbucks when Kurt arrived, also way early, so we went off and had coffee together.

When we got back, a few of the crew and presenters were there, and more trickled in over the next 30 minutes or so.  Food portions were huge, and I couldn’t finish mine.  As things would down, I handed out zip ties (zipper pulls on leather things, akin to a bolo tie) to several of the people there whom I had a really great time with over the weekend. 

(These zip ties are something I remember from my early days in the San Francisco leather community — you sometimes still see versions of them now without a zipper pull, with one of the cords in a fancy knot around the other — and I re-created them for my booth the last time I vended at IML.  They are a great subtle way of showing your leather to others as well as keeping a little with you even when not wearing hides.  And they can also serve as a handy collar, cuffs, or tie for CBT or other needs; I have even used one as temporary back lacing in a pair of chaps!)

FoxFinder pulled me aside at one point for a special thanks and palmed me a genuine bear claw.  Very cool.

After the brunch — including some picture taking with the Edmonton Away Team on the reindeer sculptures out front — I drove down the Seward Highway along the Turnagain Arm to Girdwood (about an hour south of Anchorage).  I took some photos and videos of the incredible scenery, had a fireweed & honey ice cream cone, and headed back to the airport for my return flight to Seattle.

Aftermath

GUSH!  (Oh, I said that already.)

I had a lot more fun at Northern Exposure than I expected to.  The largest part of that, of course, was being the sole gay presenter at an otherwise (kinky) straight event.  You never know how you will be received — embraced, accepted as just another presenter, or kind of danced around.  It was pretty much the second of those for me, which is really what you want: treat my like a person first, then deal with the gay angle only if you need to.

Despite some of the communication issues I had going into the event, it really ran exceptionally well.  (I have always believed that most events will: set things up to succeed, start the boulder rolling, and it will make it to the bottom of the hill, in part because others want it to succeed and will help.)  While I’m sure there were adventures and small panics behind the scenes — certainly with the music for one of the Drag Kings on Sunday — the only thing of significance that I noted which needs to be improved was having a large printout of the schedule.  They only had a small printout taped to a white board at first, and then we started writing in big letters what the next workshops were, but a 24x36 or so pre-printed one would be a good thing to have for next year.

I loved loved loved getting to know Master Todd and slave Elizabeth, getting great insight into a model for how a master/slave relationship can actually work, especially with Elizabeth being more of an equal partner in the relationship in many areas than the fantasy nature of such relationships would have you believe (and that much more real as a result).  I wish them the best if they choose to run for one of the regional M/s titles, as they said they may.

Almost my entire life has been on the West Coast, in view of mountains — real mountains, with craggy tops and snow, not the big rolling hills they call mountains back East (grin).  You learn to tell your location and directions by where they are, and to navigate by them.  From where I am sitting now, I can see the Cascades, four distances away (nearby Seattle, Mercer Island in Lake Washington, the Issaquah highlands beyond that, and then the mountains).  They are real, but they are a ways away — 60 to 90 minutes drive.  In Alaska, though, the mountains are IN YOUR FACE!  They are only two distances away, almost close enough to touch, looking 15 minutes drive away, maybe.  It was really amazing.

There’s an old joke that the Alaska state bird is the mosquito, and they were certainly out a Earthquake Park and at Beech Lake where the cabins were.  For whatever reason, though, I only came away with one scratchy bite.  I sure brushed enough of them away.

Northern Exposure was just days before summer solstice.  Alaska is the “Land of the Midnight Sun”, and while I knew what this meant academically, you just aren’t prepared for it until you experience it.  On Friday night, I got back to the cabin at 2:30 am, and it looked like the sun had just set.  (Fortunately, I didn’t have trouble sleeping with the odd light levels.)

I did not get to see the Northern Lights.  I don’t know if they are even visible from Anchorage at that time of year, but that’s something to look for on a future trip.  There was a cool art installation at the Anchorage airport emulating the Northern Lights on the ceiling of one of the corridors, though.  That rivaled “Flying Fish” (the stream of fish embedded in the floor of Concourse C at SeaTac airport) and “Desert Wildlife” (the half-sunk desert animals at the Las Vegas airport) for cool airport art.

I got several compliments on my speaking style and presentation for my workshops.  The biggest part of that, I’m sure, is that I’ve taught dance workshops for a decade.  But I think a chunk of the credit has to go to my father, who was a Methodist minister.  Even though I didn’t like having to sit through sermons (and often read a book in the back pew instead of paying attention), a lot of how he did what he did must have rubbed off.

I also got kudos from people for doing my presentations from a gay viewpoint.  While I did go through them and make sure that pronouns and focus weren’t completely male oriented, I didn’t try to “straighten” things up any more than I had to, presenting things as “This is the way I do it or I think it should go” and trusting that those attending the workshops were adults, able to adapt what I was presenting into their own reference frame.  (This was especially true with the Buttsex & Fisting workshop, where a couple times I had to come back around to the fact that I don’t know the details of female anatomy, so I could only generalize about things like vaginal fisting.)

At one point during the weekend, I thought “Wow, this sort of event would be great aimed just at gay guys — workshops on all sort of subjects and play parties at night.”  A few minutes later, I thought “That would never work.”  What I meant by that is that on multiple levels, gay leathermen wouldn’t be interested.  First, there’s simply the matter of number of attendees — take a leather bar with 100 guys in it, and frankly only 20% (if that) are actually players of a sufficient level to be interested in the concept, and only half of those might attend any way; the rest of your leather bar patrons are interested in leather as a fashion accessory or leathersex as a condiment rather than the main dish (and that’s fine!).  Second, gay leathermen like to think we already know everything, or at least that we can figure out whatever we need to know — we don’t want a 90-minute workshop on wax play, covering beginning steps, safety, more advanced topics, and some demo; we want 5 minutes of basics, 5 minutes of safety, 5 minutes of next stages, and then 75 minutes of hands-on demo/guided play, with the belief that we can figure out what things to try or avoid.  (We’re rebels, you know!)  Third, half of the workshops (some of mine included) were less about play and more about making relationships work and managing your leather lifestyle and such; gay leathermen again generally are not interested in that stuff (at least on the surface, and there are exceptions) — we want the sex, damn it!

If they invite me back again next year, will I go?  I would sure like to — do more exploring of the geography, and I have several other workshops I could do which would go over better for that crowd, now that I know them better.  But I would also heartily recommend that other gay leathermen (and women) apply to be presenters — to get the experience of both the weekend and of Alaska, and to bring their own spin on things to the event — and if it were a choice between me and someone else with good stuff to present, I would definitely tell Northern Exposure to go for the other gay leather presenter, to “expose” themselves further!

See pics from the trip.

Pics from Anchorage (June 14–18)

Here are pics from my Anchorage trip.

The Kenai Peninsula, seen across Turnagain Arm, 30 minutes drive from Anchorage

Seattle Pride • June 23–24

After two weekends away — Palm Springs for FistFest and Anchorage for Northern Exposure 3.0 (URL to come) — it was good to not be away from home for a weekend.  But that didn’t mean I had a free weekend.  This was Seattle Pride.

Northwest Leatherboy Dan was up from Eugene.  Last time, he stayed with me, but this time he decided to get a hotel, to give me some “recover from being gone so much” space.  He didn’t have to do this, but I understand the choice: I usually prefer to ensure I have my own space during a potential “play” weekend, rather than be dependent on someone else (and rather than occupying them, forcing them to tend to me rather than their own preferences).  I’ve always been more of a solo traveller, self-sufficient and wanting to make my own path.

Leather Community Picnic

The weather report for the weekend originally looked less than fabulous, and Saturday sure held to that.

Generic Leather Productions of Washington held their 6th annual Leather Community Picnic in Cal Anderson Park.  This year, they (we, since I was involved in the planning, too) moved it from the far corner of the park to a more central location, to increase the visibility.  We arranged with Local Dogs (a hot dog cart owned by one the GLPW members) to supply dogs and drinks as a fundraiser, which required some permitting and extra costs.  A poster was designed, printed, and distributed around the city.  Events were posted to Facebook, Fetlife, and so forth.  All the sorts of things which should have made the picnic a good success.

But it rained.  And not just Seattle sprinkles.  It fucking rained.

Realizing that we would likely get at least sprinkles, I dug around at the last minute and found my REI screen house.  Boy, were we glad I brought that, so there was someplace handy for people to get out of the rain a bit (although with mesh sides, it was hardly a real rain shelter, but it helped a lot).

A decent number of leatherfolk braved the rain, including most of our local titleholders (and some of the Oregon ones) and two of the SEA-PAH pup/handler pairs, who were planning to have a pup walk.  But after a bit over two hours, we called it a day and broke everything down and headed our separate ways.

The rain stopped pretty much as soon as we left, although we were all wet and the ground was soaked, so we wouldn’t have wanted to hang around anyway.

Contest Prep

One of the main reasons Dan came up was so that we could plot out the Demo and Fantasy pieces for the International Contest next month.

We had discussed a couple ideas for the Demo.  At one point, I wanted to do a kink swing dance demo with Ruin, but the demo needs to be Sir/boy.  Dan and I also discussed a depersonalization demo based on a workshop at Northern Exposure, but we came back around to something we’ve done before that we both liked and we think can carry some more pleasant weight than depersonalization.

We also fleshed out the Fantasy, based off an idea I came up with during the burlesque show at IMsL in March.  I can’t provide any details here, but it will hopefully come off fun, with some good title team interactions (not just Sir/boy stuff but incorporating Ruin as well), and some edgeplay stuff (our regional theme this year) which is not the old gun/knife/rape stuff.  I typed it up that evening and sent it off to Ruin, and she loved it.

I now have to build some set/props for it (I’m hoping just a couple hours work) and figure out what to do with music.

Saturday Night

I have long disliked Saturday night bar stuff on big event weekends.  If you aren’t out early (and I am never able to manage that easily), then there are long lines and inflated cover charges (supply and demand!) everywhere and you can’t change locations without more lines and more cover charges.  I recall at least once in the Bay Area (for Pride or Folsom, I don’t recall which), driving 30 minutes into the City, finding 30+ minute lines out the door on every place I might want to go, and driving home instead.

This year, I rode to the Cuff, saw about 100 in line, then rode around the block and over to Diesel.  There, I was able to walk right in.  It was packed in there, but at least I could get in, get to the bar, and find some people I knew.  I got to talk for a bit to International LeatherSIR 2010 Hugh Russell (one of my judges for the International contest), who was out with his partner (I think; I’ve never met his other half before that I recall, but this wasn’t one of Hugh’s boys); Hugh told me he has been reading this blog and is pulling together questions for my interview.  (Mmm, hope the blog won’t have backfired on me!  No, must remain confident that this better allows me to control the interview, both by ensuring I have better thought through various issues and by helping to feed what I want to talk about to judges who do read some of the blog.)

I gave a good hard cruise to a cute shorter bearded guy named Greg, and it paid off enough to get me a night of make-out and cuddle/sleep at his place, although not much more than that.  He expressed that he’s recently had some bad drama in his life, and I think that may have led to a reluctance to go further (nor to go back to my place).  I’m hoping to get the chance to know (and play with) him some more in the near future.  We shall see.

Pride Parade

A few years ago — perhaps coincident with moving the Parade from Broadway to 4th Avenue — the leather community became irritated at potential random placing of our group in the parade, where if we were in the back half of the parade, we could guarantee having a low turnout.

Other groups around the country have also had the same issue.  Some have tried raising a stink and giving an ultimatum of “Give us better placement or we won’t attend” (to which I hope the local Pride committee replied “Fine.  One less group we have to wrangle, more room for others”).  The Seattle community took a different tack and would gather funds from various groups who would be marching under the banner to provide a “bribe” to the committee in order to get better placement.  This year or last, though, we have formalized this and changed from a “bribe” to a formal community sponsor, ensuring us a spot along with the other sponsors in the first third or so of the parade.  (This makes me at least much more comfortable with the process.  Words have meaning, and “sponsor” carries a much more positive, legitimizing weight than “bribe”, even if the net effect is the same.)

In order to further entice leather participation, Seattle Men in Leather advertised that they would be providing some snacks and coffee and encouraging light “street play”, to turn the pre-parade wait into a sort of Sunday Leather Social.  I didn’t get to the staging location until 10:45 or so, so I don’t know how well this actually worked, but turnout was some of the best I have seen, between Seattle Men in Leather, the Center for Sex Positive Culture, a truck of SEA-PAH pups, Seattle Girls of Leather, GLPW, Leather Reign, and all of our Northwest titleholders except Mr. Oregon State Leather.

With the disco music from one of the nearby contingents, Ruin and I did some West Coast Swing dancing on the street.

The weather report had only promised sun through the morning, changing to a 30% chance of rain by early afternoon.  But the weather report was wrong, and the entire day turned out to be sunny and warm enough (not hot, but suitable for going shirtless during the parade).

For the length of the parade, I was twirling my flogger, including using it some on Dan and Ruin and Ms. Oregon State Leather Ms. Tracey (and a handful of bystanders), as well as loaning it to Tracey to use on Dan.  I was very nervous of my right wrist, which has been problematic for months (and flogging sessions in Anchorage the previous weekend didn’t help), so I swung mostly from the elbow and shoulder or with my left and I seem to have escaped most aggravation.

We gathered most of the titleholders after the parade for some pics, although Seattle Leather Daddy Ryan and Seattle Daddy’s Boy Damien had to head up to the Cuff immediately.  I’ve been generally pleased with the pics of me from the parade, both the posed ones and the candid shots, because indeed, I didn’t look fat to myself in the pics.  I has been a few years since I’ve been willing to be photographed shirtless and not cringed at the pics.

Click here for my Flickr photostream of the event, with more pics.

With SEA-PAH Pup Gadget on the street and the Seattle Pups & Handlers truck behind us.	Regional Titleholders Northwest LeatherSIR Jim, Ms. Oregon State Leather Ms. Tracey, Washington State Mr. Leather Colby, Washington State Ms. Leather Nyx, and Northwest Leatherboy Dan.  Photo courtesy of the Seattle Gay News.
Northwest Title Team Northwest Community Bootblack Ruin, Northwest LeatherSIR Jim, and Northwest Leatherboy Dan.	Street Dancing with Ruin Tah-dah!  Big finish!
Regional Titleholders Washington State Mr. Leather Colby, Washington State Ms. Leather Nyx, International Mr. Bootblack/Oregon State Bootblack Nick, Ms. Oregon State Leather Ms. Tracey, Northwest Community Bootblack Ruin, Northwest LeatherSIR Jim, and Northwest Leatherboy Dan (kneeling).  Photo by Mike Graves.

PrideFest

Several years ago, after losing a lot of money on the weekend, Seattle Out & Proud cut loose the afternoon festival and concentrated just on the parade.  A local community organizer picked it up and has managed to turn PrideFest at the Seattle Center into a great event.  (Especially when it is sunny!)  Two stages of entertainment, shopping and community group booths, food booths, and dancing in the International Fountain are hallmarks.

Rain Country Dance Association, our local GLBTQ country-western dance club (which I’m one of the founders of) again this year had an info table inside Fisher Pavilion.  These are low-cost tables for non-profit community groups, sports teams, etc., and there is a beer garden half in/half out of the pavilion which keeps people flowing in the area: a great option for us.

I was scheduled to staff things at 4 pm, so I decided to ride home, change attire and drop off the title sash.  Going home was great.  Coming back should have taken 20 minutes and took 50, as I took the freeway, bypassed the usual exit because it was stuffed with traffic backed up from the parade and festival, and then rode pretty much all over Eastlake, Denny Triangle, and downtown trying to get around things and back to the festival.  (Would have been another 15 minutes in a car, I’m sure.)

Phil and I staffed the table, which have giveaway beads and candy, plus info sheets about country-western dancing, postcards and a banner for next year’s hoedown, and a computer slideshow of dance pics.  At about 5:15, the number of people walking around was dropping, so we consolidated to a half table, and a bit after 5:30, Pete came back and we packed things up and headed them back to his car.

Getting home, I took a short nap and then thought about going out for some evening partying, but decided against it.  The best place for that would be the Cuff, at the end of their street party, but they charge a hefty cover all day, even after the entertainment is done and crowds are thinning.  I don’t like to pay more to get in than I’m going to pay for the drinks I’ll be consuming while there, and I don’t dance to thump-thump music, so it wouldn’t be worth it to me.

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Updated on August 2, 2012:

Added picnic poster.

Pics from Palm Springs (June 7–10)

Here are pics from my Palm Springs trip.   I’m trying to get better at taking and posting pics.

The base station for the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway

And a video of the tram ride:

West Coast Rubber 2012 • February 24–26

This is the 8th year for West Coast Rubber.  I attended the inaugural one in 2005 in Palm Springs, on the weekend Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans.  (With the 100+ degree heat making us sweat profusely, draining into rubber shirts and shorts and releasing ounces, even cups of liquid at a time, there were now-tasteless jokes about “breaching the levee”.)  I attended again in 2006, but after that, they moved it to Los Angeles, a city that doesn’t hold any attraction for me as a destination place, so I didn’t keep going.  I decided to go again in 2010, to reconnect with my rubber roots, and I had an okay time, although there was still no attraction for me to go to L.A.  (Read about that trip here.)  Now, though, they have moved it back to Palm Springs, and to February, where temps will top out at only about 82 degrees (“Heaven” for those of us from colder climates, in other words!).  I’m totally there!

My Rubber Roots

I first got into rubber in 1997 or so, after dating a guy who had some (but never wore it while we were dating).  I bought a rubber shirt from Mr. S at IML that year, and acquired a whole crapload of rubber attire and gear over the next several years.

In 1998 (I think), I competed for San Francisco Leather Daddy’s Boy, but wore rubber for the contest, and was later advised that that may have had an effect on me not winning.  In November 1999, though, I competed for Mr. International Rubber (2nd runner-up).  I then became a charter member of Rubber Men of San Francisco Bay (and designed the logos they used for years), and had them sponsor me to compete for International again in 2000 (2nd runner-up again, with a larger contestant field).

After moving to Seattle, I continued to attend (but not compete) for MIR for several years, including one year that I was suffering from Hep B the entire time, not aware of why I was sick until I got home.  I also started attending Rubbout in Vancouver (before I moved to Seattle, in fact, and it was he return drive to Seattle that convinced me to move from California), and have only missed one year of it since then.

Leather titles and a live-in relationship (with a live-in teenager) put a damper on my rubber time, but it has never been far from my heart, and I’m trying to recapture some of it these days.  This year is partially a good time for this, because while Northwest LeatherSIR is technically a “leather” title, it is a play title and embraces the play activities which work well/better/best/only in rubber as much as those which are best in leather (or in nothing at all).

Thursday

For this trip, I decided to take my portable sling.  My friend Bill recommended a rolling long bag for such (almost a golf club bag), and I found one from Coleman at the local Ross store.  Unfortunately, the bag itself is heavy enough that I couldn’t take the new frame, only the old one, and even then, the cross pieces, sling, and tie downs (a recommendation from my friend Matt, rather than chains) had to go in my carry-on to keep the bag just under 50 lbs.  But it is indeed much easier to transport.  And since the sling poles only fill the bottom compartment, I could put my nasty heavy carry-on in the top compartment to make transporting it also easier.

D. came over on Thursday night and helped me paw through my rubber, to figure out what I would take.  As usual, I took more than I ended up actually wearing, but really that was only a pair of shorts and a couple shirts more than needed, so not too bad.  Still, with the sling pieces as well as plenty of rubber, that carry-on was heavy.

D. also got the chance to try on some of my rubber.  Poof: instant rubber boy!  He took right to the latex and the Nasty Pig stuff (nice to have non-leather options for him), and I also took the opportunity to put him in the new neoprene hood and cuffs, use the rubber floggers on him, and so forth.

Friday

The trip to the airport and the flight were uneventful, except for the hard, hard landing in Long Beach.  I did discover another thing I don’t recommend people do: don’t watch episodes of Pan Am (featuring the glories of 1960s air travel) while flying on modern aircraft.

West Coast Rubber had all of Camp Palm Springs reserved (about 40 rooms).  This was the first time I’ve stayed there.  It was fine — a bit “dumpy”, but not out of the range of either what is acceptable or where I’ve stayed on previous trips.  The pillows were not comfortable, though, and the DVD player in my room wouldn’t play any of the DVDs they had for check out.  (Probably needs cleaning badly.)

I went down to Gear and bought a neoprene swimsuit/jock with the ass cut out.  Matthew was working that day (the same hunky hair guy I mentioned with the previous Palm Springs trip).

Friday night was a Meet & Greet and then a play party.  While there was a good crowd for the former, most guys didn’t hang around or didn’t play much.  Had a little fun, but only a little (just rub, wank, and suck).

Saturday

I tried to go to Sherman’s Deli for breakfast, but much of downtown Palm Springs was shut down for a parade.  Not sure if it was for Modernism Week or something else (someone said Black History Month, which is in February, so maybe).  Once I got to Sherman’s, there was a line out the door, so I went north to Rick’s Restaurant instead.  Also with a line out the door, but I was by myself, so I got immediate seating at the counter.  (I remember as a kid, I always wanted to sit at the counter at diners, but we never got to but maybe once or twice.  It still always feel like a cross between exotic and trucker.)  Catfish and eggs was the special that enticed me.  Online later, I got hit on by two guys who saw me (and my red hanky) during breakfast.

On Saturday, we had a BBQ and pool party.  Nice and relaxing, and rubber boys do like being in the pool in their rubber.  (Leather boys in their leather, not so much.)

At 5 pm, we had a rubber dinner in gear at Trio, with about 35 of us at four tables.  They had to move the reservation up from 6 pm because the restaurant was sold out later, due to Modernism Week, I think.  I gave a ride to some of the Vancouver boys, but getting them in their gear, shined up, and out the door was like herding cats.  Slicked up cats.  We were almost the last to arrive as a result.  While we were waiting, though, Paul from Vancouver took a couple nice pics of me in my rubber, which will be my cruise site profile pic for the next few months.

On the way back to my car, we chanced upon a gallery storefront featuring work by the artist SHAG.  It only took me a moment to connect the name and art style to an artist Cliff had told me about who does a lot of retro-styled modern tiki work.  We had to go in.  The gallery owner (I assume) got a kick out of having rubber guys in the store and after I took this pic of Reid (Mr. West Coast Rubber), he took one of the four of us with the big wall tiki.

After dinner, there was supposed to be the Mr. West Coast Rubber contest and then a play party, but apparently there were no contestants.  For a weekend like this, while unfortunate, that isn’t fatal.  Most of the guys attending are happy to have a contest, but we aren’t coming just for one.  So the contest got replaced by a bar crawl.

This was fine with me.  I had received an invite on Manhunt to a cocktail party where I would told some of the Desert Fetish Authority guys would be.  I asked him about dress code for it, but never heard back, so I went in rubber chaps, neoprene harness, and title vest.

While some of the DFA guys were likely in attendance, it was not a leathermen’s cocktail party.  Other than a couple guys in leather pants with their casual attire shirts, I was the only one in leather (rubber, etc.), and doubly so the only one with no shirt and his ass hanging out.  Social faux pas?  Perhaps.  But I remembered one of the things I was told two decades ago in San Francisco: “While some people may look askance at you for attending the opera in your leather pants, vests, and tux shirt, remember that what you’re wearing probably cost as much as what they’re wearing.”  So given the choice between turning tail or just acting like I belonged there, I chose the latter.

There were of course several leather guys there.  Eric, whom I played with on the last trip, was happy to see me, and he introduced me to a few other people.  I got the chance to explain some hanky code basics to a couple guys, including the idea that you can flag whatever hanky or stripe on your chaps or what not that you like, even if you aren’t into fisting or piss or whichever activity the color “means”, but what you can’t do (better not do) is either be unaware of the message you are sending with what you are displaying or be offended when someone makes the obvious assumption.

Ken and Bob (?), the owners of Gear were there, and Matthew was tending bar.  Curtis, one of the hosts and the guy who invited me, is an old acquaintance from square dancing in the Bay Area in the 1990s; we hadn’t even seen each other for 15 years until a chance meeting at Chaps Inn on my last trip.  Randy, another square dance friend from the Bay Area, was also there, as was John, who recognized me from my days at Adobe Systems in the 90s.  (I guess my looks haven’t changed a whole lot.)  There were also a couple transplants from Montréal, one a former titleholder and the other one of the founders of Club Bolo whom I knew just barely through IAGLCWDC channels.

After leaving the party, I headed to the Barracks in Cathedral City, expecting to meet up with the rubber boys, but it was pretty empty.  I did chat with Red, one of the security guys, who said that they get some undercover cops in on Sundays, looking for ways and reasons to shut the bar down.  (Never mind the large amount of slosh-over income that restaurants and such in the area get from it, it has gays having a good time, and that must be stopped!  “Watchdog has spoken!”)

Over at the Tool Shed, I found the rubber boys just hadn’t made it past there.  And since it was hopping there, no wonder!  After a couple beers, I headed back to the resort, running into Alex and Flip from Seattle.  Flip had a piece of art in the Erotic Art Expo that was being displayed at the Tool Shed.

I also got to see my buddy John, who has become a regular play buddy each time I come to town.

Sunday

Sunday morning, after playing until 3:30 am, I dragged my ass out of bed and down to Lulu California Bistro for brunch with the rubber guys, about 16 of us I think.  Lulu is huge inside and looks like it turns into a nightclub at night.  The menu is vast, and the food was pretty good (and abundant, 1/4 of my croissant sandwich came back to the resort with me to join some leftover catfish from the day before; they would be dinner later on).

After brunch, had an hour’s phone call with my co-chair for the upcoming Emerald City Hoedown, talking schedule details and the like.  Another pool party was on Sunday afternoon, smaller.  I ended up with a small sunburn, which made it hard to get up from a later nap.  Hied myself out to the Barracks, though.  Again ran into last year’s California LeatherSIR, Todd.  Also swapped some kisses and fondles with Mark, Kevin, and Daniel; the latter had been at the cocktail party the night before.  And with another Mark and Dino.  I also fielded a phone call about eventual ownership of the Northwest title sashes (GLPW owns them, but they aren’t the title producers any more, so what to do with them now?).

I stopped back at the Tool Shed and met up with Mark and Dino again, and then back to the resort where I had a play session with a hot guy named Rick.

The weather dropped more than 10 degrees Sunday night and a huge wind storm came through — very loud and cold.

Monday

Today I got to Sherman’s for breakfast.

Packing up, I passed a partial bottle of Bushmill’s whiskey on to one of the guys who drove out from Los Angeles, and passed some beer and unopened Crisco sticks on to other guys still around who might use them.  I knew I didn’t have weight to spare in my sling bag to take stuff, nor could I take them in the carry-on.

Sporting pins on my vest for events I’ve been to and this my second trip to Palm Springs with the title, I wanted to get a Palm Springs pin.  Q Trading Post had none (but I picked up a bear paw pin there), but I found some generic Palm Springs pins at Rite-Aid; better than nothing.  (I’ve debated snagging the PSLOD pin from my Mr. Northwest Cub vest, the one John gave me last summer; I may still do that as well.)

The wind had definitely heralded a change in the weather, with rain squalls all the way to Long Beach.  I had looked at options for renting a motorcycle or scooter for this trip; I would love to do the ride to Palm Springs on one, but they are prohibitively expensive.  (Obviously, I would not have brought the sling in that case!)  Sure glad I wasn’t on one coming back in the rain.

I do like flying in and out of Long Beach airport.  While they are expanding the airport now, it is still pretty darn small, so the walk from rental car return to ticket counter to gate is the equivalent of about a block.  I was struck at the airport that I always want to add letters to their abbreviation, though: LGB?  No, LGBTQ!